Sample V-06: The Book of Echoes
(New York Modernism Style) I still remember the smell of that room—a mixture of old paper, damp wool, and the metallic tang of a dying man's breath. I was ten years old, a skinny kid from a tenement in the Bronx, and I was sitting in a circle with five other boys who were just as lost as I was. Mr. Sterling didn't look like a savior. He looked like a sketch of a man that someone had started and...
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